


I know how it feels (to be one of the gods)

by BananasofThorns



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alliances, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Dream is the god of his world, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Hopeful Ending, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Platonic Relationships, Speculation, a take on how the finale of the SMP could go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: It’s been ages since Dream tapped into his full power, but it’s all too easy to let go of whatever mortal qualms have been holding him back. Everyone surrounding him stumbles away as he lifts off the ground, electricity crackling from his weapons and the still-too-wide smile beneath his mask. He feels breathless, suddenly, like all the oxygen in his lungs has been replaced with buzzing ozone. Thunder rumbles but the skies are clear, and Dream laughs until his chest hurts and then keeps on cackling. The sun dips beneath the horizon, but the battlefield stays illuminated in searingly bright green.Below him, Techno snorts. “That’s cheatin’,” he says, a grin in his voice, and when he raises his sword, the blade glints crimson. The people surrounding him back away.The end of the world comes when Dream can no longer control those around him. He watches the power slip through his fingers like sand and decides to take matters into his own hands one last time. As an insane man once said, if he can't have it, nobody can.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 207
Collections: stories from the pantheon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [title from Marionettes - Kanaya]
> 
> I originally planned this fic like 3 weeks ago and then didn't actually start it until sometime last week when Dream stuff lowkey went down on Punz's stream oops
> 
> enjoy!! It's basically my take/headcanon on how the SMP (season 1) could end

It’s a long, quiet trek north. Dream trudges through the knee-deep snow, nothing to keep him out of his own head except for the crunch of his footsteps and the icy wind doing its best to sneak beneath his mask. He swears he can still smell the smoke and gunpowder even though it’s been days. It’s not like— he doesn’t _regret_ it - the fear in everyone’s eyes is nothing new - but he’d helped build this world from the ground up and it seems almost like a waste to destroy it all in one fell blow.

Next time he shows his face, metaphorically speaking, they’ll be out for his blood. That’s nothing new, either, but now it’s not just Tommy and his friends; George and Sapnap left long ago, before control had started to slip through Dream’s fingers like sand in an hourglass. Sam, Ant, and Bad turned away soon after, but now even Punz won’t look at him without bared teeth and grieving eyes. Dream growls, snow swirling around him as the wind picks up. He has no idea how much longer it is to his destination, just that the compass he’d taken from Phil’s house points steadily north.

He hasn’t seen Technoblade since the battle that brought Manberg to its knees. Everyone’s saying he’s retired now, and they stopped trying to chase him down after months of failed attempts. Dream isn’t sure how accurate the rumors are - it’s been over a year since the god disappeared, so there’s probably some truth - but he knows Techno and he knows that peace suits him about as well as it suits Dream. He’ll need allies if he wants to end this fight once and for all, and there’s only one person on this world who he hasn’t severed ties with and burned the threads.

After countless, sleepless hours of nonstop walking, a house emerges from the snow as a dark splotch against all the blinding white. It’s surprisingly homey, made of spruce and stone and with the distinct touch of Phil’s architecture. There’s a greenhouse to its left, radiating warmth that melts the snow in a ring around it, and somewhere Dream can sense dozens of turtles shifting about. He steels himself, adjusts his cloak, and raises a fist to knock.

The door swings open before he can; Technoblade glares down at him, arms crossed as his aura bleeds a misty cloud around him, and Dream shuffles back instinctively. Techno’s hair is even longer than it had been previously, braided almost to his knees, and he’s traded out his red mantle for robes of icy white and soft blues. He matches the outfit Phil had worn in his few months on the world. Nobody has heard from him since he broke ties and left, and most people think he’s never coming back, but Dream is doubting that now.

Techno raises an eyebrow. “Why are you here.”

“I—”

“If you’re goin’ to raze my buildings to the ground like you’ve done everywhere else, you better rethink that,” Techno says, turning away but leaving the door open. “I spent far too long keepin’ this place hidden for some asshole with a god complex and control issues to ruin it.”

Dream snorts and steps inside, gently closing the door behind him. The warmth hits him immediately and he sags despite himself, flexing his fingers to chase away the last of the cold. He doesn’t bother asking how Techno knows what’s happened to the rest of the SMP.

“I’m not here to destroy your things,” he assures, glancing around the room. 

Chests and furnaces are stacked against one wall; another is lined entirely by brewing stands, all of which are fully stocked with potions. The air smells like blaze powder and nether wart. He follows Techno through an archway that leads to a smaller, cozy room with a fireplace in one corner and a desk in the other. Techno stays standing, arms crossed as he stares Dream down. Dream runs his fingers over the back of one of the two armchairs and smiles.

“I have a request, actually.”

Techno raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He sounds anything but enthused and Dream winces, flashes of Phil’s final, furious outburst playing in his mind.

_(Dream hadn’t been there to see what had triggered Philza’s snap, but he had arrived in L’manberg in time to see the fallout. He’d felt Phil’s anger before he’d seen it; the air had smelled cold and crisp, like the upper atmosphere, and when Dream had turned the corner, he’d been briefly blinded by the burning mint of Phil’s aura._

_The god’s back had been to Dream; beyond him were Tubbo, Quackity, Tommy, Fundy, and Ranboo, eyes wide. Ranboo’s aura was stronger than Dream had ever seen it, the air around him completely obscured by swirling smoke and ender particles. The others didn’t need auras for Dream to know that they were similarly terrified and startled._

_“—betrayed him!” Phil was yelling, accent sharp. “I am the only one on this godsforsaken world who treats Techno like a_ person _and not a_ thing. _He doesn’t deserve to be hunted down and slaughtered for something that happened almost a year ago. I’m not going to betray his trust like that.”)_

“Well— not a request,” Dream amends. “A...proposition, if you will. For an alliance.”

“An alliance,” Techno repeats. “I’m _retired_.”

Dream laughs, watching the cloud of Techno’s blood-red aura trail behind him as he shifts. He looks pointedly into the other room, where the potions are brewing.

“I mean....”

Techno rolls his eyes. “I was bored. Go away, I’m not gonna fight your wars for you.”

“And I’m not asking you to! This will be beneficial for both of us; I help you destroy the government once and for all, and you help me finally take back control of my world.”

Techno is silent for a long moment as he scrutinizes Dream. Dream stares back and tries not to watch as the bloodied mist of Techno’s aura spikes around his head. His ears twitch and he digs his nails into his arm, so subtle that Dream barely notices, and sighs.

“I don’t— it’s been a long year, Dream. It’s been a long year. The...the voices, they’re gettin’ louder, especially now that Phil’s gone.” 

Dream hums. “What are they saying?”

“They want blood. They want vengeance.”

Techno’s aura shifts, draping over his shoulders like a mantle. Dream tilts his head.

“And what about you? What do you want?”

Techno smiles, sanguine and humorless and sharp. “I want silence.”

+++

Something is coming. They all felt it two days ago, when the air shifted into something sinister and foreboding. It hasn’t changed since, and everyone gathered in the crater-that-was-New-L’manberg - they have no name for themselves, now; all nations have fallen at Dream’s feet - waits with bated breath. Tubbo is trying to be strong, but at the end of the day, he’s just a kid in a president’s costume. Eret has become his unofficial advisor - nothing can be _official_ if they don’t have a government yet - and it helps, but. Not enough.

Something is coming.

Punz ducks into the meeting tent, eyes grim, and Tubbo braces himself for whatever news there is now. It’s been a week or so since Punz joined them, he thinks, and even though he was Dream’s right-hand man and longest-lasting ally, nobody doubts who he’s loyal to now. There’s no way to fake the haunted, betrayed anger that lurks in his eyes and every movement he makes.

“Dream’s up to something,” he says wearily; he’s become their intel gatherer for stuff like this, because he knows how best to go unseen by the man who knows everything. “I haven’t seen him in a day or two, but...he was heading north. Before he disappeared.”

Tubbo swallows, glancing over at his advisors. His friends. Tommy does his best to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“North?” Ranboo repeats. “Isn’t that where—”

“Technoblade.”

Quackity’s voice is dark, darker than anything should sound coming from his mouth, and Tubbo hates that that’s become normal. Of all of them, Quackity is the one most bitter that they let Technoblade get away, and it shows.

Punz nods. “Yeah.”

The tent falls silent as they realize just how screwed they are, but Fundy is the one that actually says what they’re all thinking:

“Well, fuck.”

Tommy laughs, unnaturally loud even for him, and Tubbo startles before he can help himself. Ranboo’s form shivers before he grounds himself, catching an echoing click behind his teeth. He tries to smile; the attempt falls miles short.

“Well, there’s only two of them and, what, over twenty of us? Even if they’re— they’re good, but against _those_ odds?”

It’s a weak argument, but somehow it works. Tubbo nods, determination rising in his chest.

“You’re right. We still have our armor, and our weapons, and even if not all of us are the best at fighting, they’re still far outnumbered.” He grins. “We have a chance, guys. Let’s take back our freedom once and for all.”

A pause, and then Tommy whoops. Tubbo meets his eyes, comforted by that familiar fire, and then turns to Punz and starts planning out training schedules and around-the-clock watches. The news that Dream is getting _Technoblade_ out of retirement should be intimidating - it is, actually, everyone is fucking terrified when the news first spreads - but somehow, it boosts morale. They pick up their weapons and run through both offensive and defensive drills with more enthusiasm since before Dream ruined everything and Tubbo allows himself to hope, for once, that things will turn out okay.

That energy lasts for almost three days before the air shifts again. This time it brings with it the smell of mint and the upper atmosphere, and Tubbo is running from his tent before he even realizes what he’s doing. Fundy and Tommy are hot on his heels.

In the clearing they’ve made at the center of their makeshift town, the air shivers and warps and then, like he’d been there all along, Phil appears. He looks the same as he did the last time Tubbo saw him, though less angry; his wings are folded against his back but still reach nearly a foot above his head, the feathers inches away from brushing the dirt below his feet. His clothing is the same, too, icy whites and crystal blues and soft robes. Phil shakes himself, feathers rustling, and turns to Tubbo, who scrambles to find his words.

“Welcome back, Philza,” he finally settles on, which seems both far too formal and far too polite for the terms they parted on.

Phil smiles. “Hey, Tubbo. I see things have...changed around here.”

He glances around, lips twitching as he takes in the decimated streets of what had been New L’manberg. Tubbo grimaces.

“Yeah, uh— Dream finally snapped, I think.” He clears his throat. “What brings you here?”

“I thought you left,” Tommy adds, as blunt as always. “You said you hated us.”

Tubbo sighs. “Oh my gods,” someone, probably Fundy, mutters. Phil snorts.

“I don’t _hate_ you, Tommy. I just disagreed with some of your decisions and so I left.”

“But you came back,” Tubbo interrupts before Tommy can speak, not-at-all subtly glossing over Phil’s _wild_ understatement. “Why?”

Phil’s smile widens, something dark lurking in his eyes. “I heard there was a storm coming.”

Before Tubbo can say anything - the skies are clear, but that definitely isn’t what Phil meant - Niki comes running up. Her eyes are wide and her hands tremble around the hilt of her sword, but when she speaks, her voice is steady if not a bit breathless. She’s supposed to be on watch right now.

“Dream and Techno, they—” she takes a deep breath and steadies herself, though Tubbo knows what’s coming and he feels the ground shift beneath his feet. “They’re here, you guys.”

She points. Dream and Technoblade stand side-by-side on the hill across from L’manberg; the latter towers nearly a foot over Dream and a collective shiver runs through the crowd. Technoblade hasn’t fought in over a year, but all of them remember what it’s like to be on the other end of his sword. It’s longer than Tubbo is tall, and Technoblade wields it like it’s made of nothing but wood. Beside him, Dream unsheathes his axe. The sunlight flashes against the wicked blade and Tubbo swallows.

“This is it,” he says, raising his voice so that everyone can hear him. Tommy is a solid and comforting presence at his side. “Either we win this, or we die trying.”

“I wish you the best of luck,” Phil says.

He spreads his wings, buffeting them all back with the force, and launches himself into the air; it’s too far away to be certain, but Tubbo’s pretty sure that Technoblade salutes. Within seconds he’s high enough to block out the sun, and Tommy and the others are shouting but Tubbo barely hears it over Phil’s laughter.

His last rational thought before fear and adrenaline cloud his mind is that it suddenly makes sense why people have always called Philza the Angel of Death.

+++

The smell of blood is so strong in the air that it chokes even Dream, and he can’t tell if it’s from Techno’s aura or the path of destruction they’ve carved through their opposition. Fallen weapons and armor litter the battlefield, which spans from L’manberg’s ruins to where the Holy Lands had been. By now, most people are fighting with whatever gear they can find, and the corner of Dream’s vision is filled with more death logs than he’s ever seen before. Still, his enemies are awfully persistent; they die, they respawn, they grab the first weapon they see, and they jump right back into the fight. It’s a vicious cycle, but the constant death and revival keep them from running too low on energy.

That is not an advantage he nor Techno has, and the hours of fighting are starting to take their toll. Techno’s laughter rings throughout the battlefield, but it gets more and more breathless as time goes on. Beneath his mask, Dream’s face has frozen in a smile so sharp that it hurts if he tries to drop it, so he doesn’t. He’s laughing now, too, but it’s not like the low, triumphant laugh of his ally; it reminds him a bit of Wilbur at the end, where everything had gone wrong and there was nothing to do but blow the problem to kingdom come.

Dream shakes his head, tearing his thoughts away from the past and back to the battlefield. The sun is starting to set and the golden-red rays stab through the haze of adrenaline, bringing him back to himself just in time for Purpled and Skeppy to back him against a wall. Glass crunches beneath his feet as he adjusts his stance and brings them both to their knees with one swing of his axe, but their bodies have barely disappeared before four more people take their place.

Abruptly, terribly, Dream finds himself cornered.

He spins wildly but there’s nowhere he can go, not with Eret and Bad boxing him in on both sides and Tommy and Tubbo - _of course_ \- glaring at him from behind swords that aren’t theirs. People, old allies and older enemies, fill in ranks behind them, and Dream is trapped. His back is pressed against the only remaining wall of Church Prime, and he can almost feel the coldness of the marble through his armor.

Maybe Techno—

“Dream, I really don’t think this is a good outcome,” Techno calls, and there are even more people surrounding him, keeping carefully out of range of his sword but close enough that he can’t move without running into someone.

Brief bitterness sparks in Dream’s chest - even after everything he’s done, after the year Techno spent vanished from civilization, the other god is _still_ considered more of a threat than he is. He snarls, and the people surrounding him flinch. 

Their weapons stay steady.

“Dream, Technoblade,” a voice calls over the sudden stillness of the battlefield. In his rising, desperate fury, it takes Dream a moment to place it as Sam’s. “You put up a good fight, but it’s time to surrender. As the warden of the prison—”

Dream should have destroyed that fucking place when he had the chance, but he’d made the mistake of imbuing the foundations with his own magic. It was supposed to be inescapable for _nearly_ everyone, but Sam had done too good of a job and now nothing past the end of the world is removing that gods-damned place from existence.

A laugh bubbles up through Dream’s throat before he can stop it. Everything he’s worked towards is crumbling beneath his feet and his control over his people is slipping through his fingers like sand, so— fuck it, right?

It’s been ages since he tapped into his full power, but it’s all too easy to let go of whatever mortal qualms have been holding him back. Everyone surrounding him stumbles back as he lifts off the ground, electricity crackling from his blades and the still-too-wide smile beneath his mask. He feels breathless, suddenly, like all the oxygen in his lungs has been replaced with buzzing ozone. Thunder rumbles but the skies are clear, and Dream laughs until his chest hurts and then keeps on cackling. The sun dips beneath the horizon, but the battlefield stays illuminated in searingly bright green.

Below him, Techno snorts. “That’s cheatin’,” he says, a grin in his voice, and when he raises his sword, the blade glints crimson. The people surrounding him back away.

Chuckling, Dream spins his sword in a lazy circle. “You _really_ think you can stop me, Sam? You really think—”

“Hey!”

Sapnap’s voice cuts through the still air and the laughter stutters in Dream’s throat, choking him before he can stop it. The crowd beneath him parts as one and then—

He hasn’t seen his best friends ( _ex-best_ friends) in so long. George is leaning on Sapnap, wincing every time he takes a step, and Dream pushes back the memory of slamming the butt of his axe into someone’s leg. That could’ve— it could’ve been anyone. George is not the only one limping. His glasses have cracked, the lens on the right side gone entirely, and he’s pushed them up on his forehead instead of trying to see through them. Beside him, blood paints Sapnap’s face and side in red so dark it’s nearly black. His veins glow like lava beneath his skin, burning so bright that Dream imagines he can feel the heat from where he’s hovering, untouchable, in the air.

“Dream, come on,” George says, and the words should be familiar but they’ve never been that broken and Dream laughs so that he doesn’t scream. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“This is _my_ world!” Dream yells, anger abruptly returning like he’s been dropped in the middle of the arctic sea. “Mine! Not yours, not Tommy’s, _mine._ I—”

George rolls his eyes. “You’re being stupid.”

“I created this world! I gave you all resources, and I let you live here, and what did you do? You left! You took my land, and my power, and you used it for your own good. It’s about fucking time I took it back!”

“You’re being _selfish_ , Dream!”

“You _left me!”_

“And who’s fault was that?” George shouts back. “You dethroned me! You said you cared about some stupid _discs_ more than our friendship! You’ve ruined everyone’s lives, and for what? Because you couldn’t stand to lose control over all your little pawns?”

Dream snarls, shifting his grip on the handles of his weapons. The crowd shuffles nervously, but George and Sapnap stand strong. Dream stares down at the two people who had been by his side the longest and feels nothing but a frozen void in his chest.

“I hate you,” he says, and the words taste acidic and ashy on his tongue. George flinches; the fire beneath Sapnap’s skin burns brighter. “I hate you so _fucking_ much—”

“D҉͘͠r̷͟͝e̡͟͟͞a̶̛͘͟m͞.” 

Sapnap’s voice cracks through the air like lightning, and the air around Dream freezes. The word wasn’t in English but that hardly matters because Dream understands, of course he does, and he opens his mouth to scream but nothing comes out and then he’s _falling._ One second he’s in the air and the next he’s slamming into the ground, axe and sword falling from his hands. Glass and rubble dig into his skin between the gaps in his armor. He reaches for his weapons with shaking fingers, but Sapnap kicks them away with a stony face and they disappear into the darkness clouding Dream’s vision.

“I hate you,” he rasps, shifting to spit out blood; the mask gets in the way and he chokes, coughing up bitter laughter. “I never should have taught you that.”

His eyesight is blurry, but it’s clear enough that he can watch Sapnap cross his arms and glance towards Techno. “Well, you did.”

Dream growls wordlessly. A flash of blinding white pulls his focus away from Sapnap; he turns, blinking the afterimage away, to find Techno standing weaponless, hands raised in surrender. Nobody moves and the tension in the air gets stronger, if anything, but Dream bites back a furious scream.

“ _Traitor,”_ he spits. “You fucking— we had a _deal,_ Technoblade!”

Techno doesn’t even look at him. “I— it’s self-preservation, man, come on. You think I’m goin’ to mess with people who can kill a god?”

“Fuck you.”

Techno just laughs. Dream tries to push himself to his feet, but his arms are shaking so hard that he barely makes it to his knees before collapsing again. The eyes of the crowd are heavy and Dream wants to kill them all, wants to end this world with one fell swoop, but he’s too fucking weak to even stand.

George kneels down, tears breaking through the blood and ash caked on his face. Dream snarls, fingers itching for his sword or his axe or _anything,_ and— George reaches forward, hands shaking, and all the fury bubbling in Dream’s chest is replaced by fear stronger than the void. There’s nothing he can do as George slides his fingers beneath the mask and lifts it away, and it’s only a small comfort that his two best friends are blocking his face from the rest of the world.

Red shifts in the corner of Dream’s vision, but he pays it no mind as he stares at George face-to-face for the first time in...ever. 

“I— Sapnap,” he rasps, and then Sapnap is there, smiling despite the blood and the tears on his cheeks.

“Hey, man.”

Dream opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out, and it’s only after he tastes salt that he realizes he’s crying, too. He hasn’t cried in so long.

“I don’t—”

“Shh,” George soothes, wiping away some of his own tears. All it does is smear the ash on his face. “I̸̕'̶̢͢͝m̷̢̨͟͡ ̴̶̢͢s̶̨̛͘͡ơ̧̨͝r͟͢ry.”

Dream smiles even as his face spasms. “You shouldn’t be,” he murmurs, and his eyes slip shut.

The mask falls from George’s hands, tumbling forgotten into the burnt grass and bloody rubble. Dream’s body is already going cold, but he twists his fingers in the torn fabric of his best friend’s cloak like that’ll keep him from disappearing entirely. Sapnap’s palm is a warm anchor on his shoulder, but his fingers shake as he sobs, other hand clapped tight over his mouth.

Bad rushes forward, sword forgotten, and falls to his knees beside them. His halo is dimmer than George has ever seen it and he doesn’t want to let go of Dream but with his free hand, he grabs Bad’s and holds on tight. Ant appears a moment later, followed by Punz, and finally Sam drops to his knees and pulls as many of them in for a hug as he can reach.

“I killed him,” George murmurs numbly. He can’t look away from Dream’s distant eyes and frozen, relieved smile. “He’s gone. I—”

“You did what you had to do,” Ant says. The words feel empty.

Punz reaches mechanically for Dream’s weapons; the axe and the sword, so deadly in Dream’s hands, look so very small now. George wants to destroy them, wants to throw them into the Nether lava and never look back, but he knows that Dream would never forgive that.

“Bury him with his weapons,” Sapnap mutters.

“I’ll make sure nobody can take them,” Sam agrees. “It’s the least he deserves.”

George wants to say something, but all he can do is cry as his world dissolves beneath him.

+++

George reaches for Dream’s mask and Techno is in motion before he fully realizes what he’s doing. Sapnap growls at him, but he stands down when Techno simply places himself between Dream and the crowd. He and Dream were never friends, but they understood each other, and that’s all that matters at this point. 

“Thank you,” Sapnap murmurs, but he stays staring at Techno for a moment before turning and rushing to Dream’s side.

Techno nods even though he’s no longer looking. In the night, without Dream’s aura to illuminate the frozen battlefield, the crowd is a faceless wall before him. Every so often, the enchantment on someone’s weapon or armor will shift and he can make out individual features; Tommy’s wide-eyed, frozen indignance; Niki and Karl’s tears; something like grief and triumph warring on Quackity’s face.

Behind them all: Phil, wings closed tight, sadness and understanding in his smile. Techno watches him so that he doesn’t flinch when George whispers the two words that end Dream’s life for good.

He has no idea how two mortals learned that power, and the grim set of Phil’s mouth shows that he is just as worried about the implications. That’s a problem for them to discuss later, though. Techno allows Bad, Sam, Ant, and Punz to rush past him to Dream. If anyone else tries to step forward, his sword is a finger’s-twitch away in his inventory. He’ll leave soon, back to his home, or maybe with Phil, but for now, he stands as a sentinel between the world’s god and his shell-shocked enemies.

The world is changing, now that Dream’s dead. For better or worse, Techno has no idea, but he thinks he can guess. When he takes a deep breath in, the air smells like earth after a thunderstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry
> 
> notes on the chapter (there's a lot but it adds Lore):  
> 1) Dream is _the_ god and creator of the world, so it responds to his emotions somewhat. After he dies, the world changes, but arguably in a good way. Even though he created the world, it continues without him and doesn't seem to need his life force (or something like that) to keep it going. Techno and Phil are also gods, but in different ways; Phil is one of the most powerful gods in the Universe, but his power is diminished when he's on worlds that aren't his own. Techno wasn't always a god but he's one now, so take that as you will.
> 
> 2) Gods, Entities (supernatural beings, for lack of a better description), and especially powerful hybrids have auras. Some gods and Entities can always see them, while others only see them when the person is feeling heightened emotions or using powers (if they have them). Auras in this fic:  
>  **Dream:** neon green, radiates around him (centered on his head - like a halo - and shoulders/upper back) in jagged slashes and ribbons; somewhat reminiscent of lightning and/or flame. brings with it the smell of ozone  
>  **Techno:** blood red, trails behind and around him like mist (and/or a cloud). brings with it the smell of blood  
>  **Phil:** mint green, looks like wings even when his are folded or invisible. flares when he gets angry, protective, scared, or otherwise emotional. brings with it the smell of cold, crisp air and occasionally mint  
>  **Ranboo (enderman-ghast hybrid):** ender particles float around him, but only on his right (enderman) side. on his left (ghast) side, faint impressions of smoke drift off his body  
>  **Sapnap (blaze hybrid):** his veins look like molten lava beneath his skin, and it gets brighter when he gets angry and/or uses his powers
> 
> 3) Phil ended up leaving the world because L'manberg kept trying to use him to get to Techno and/or kept trying to get him to give up Techno's location. He wouldn't, and he eventually got so pissed that he left and now only returns to the world to talk to Techno. In the outtakes fic I'll post soon (hopefully), you'll get the full scene of Phil confronting L'manberg
> 
> 4) The way George and Sapnap killed Dream was basically the /kill command, interpreted for fic. As far as I see it, gods are the only people who know the command (aka how to kill a god), but mortals _can_ be taught and, back when they were still friends, Dream taught it to them as a sign of trust and also a last-resort for if something like this ever happened
> 
> 5) For Techno's sword, look up "skingorger critical role." The design for Techno's is different and the coloration is less rusty, but that's the sword I took inspiration from. (actually I took inspo from both of Yasha's swords for my two Techno sword designs lmao) Techno's ~7ft in this, and his sword is ~6ft. Very Large


	2. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [pointing to Wilbur, Dream, and their similarities] I just think they're neat

Dream drifts through the streets of L’manberg, head tilted back to study the houses and storefronts in the midst of being rebuilt. The crater Wilbur had caused had only grown deeper when Dream destroyed the country, but its citizens just build higher, sturdier stilts. Slowly, the hole will fill in with water like it had last time, and the world will keep moving. Dream admits, however begrudgingly, that L’manberg’s persistence is something that he respects.

Ranboo jogs past him and Dream changes course to follow him to the plaza. Tubbo and Fundy are there and they both look away from their game of chess to shout greetings. Ranboo waves back, laughing, and stops in front of a billboard, flyers and photographs pinned to the front. Dream drifts closer, hovering over the hybrid’s shoulder as he tapes something over one of the papers at the center of the board.

_ Days since last war crime, _ Dream reads, chuckling softly.  _ 36. _

“And there we go,” Ranboo says. “I think that’s the highest it’s ever been; we’re doing pretty good after— after.”

He turns, arm passing through Dream’s torso before Dream can back away. Ranboo shivers, glancing around with wide eyes.

“What—? You know what, nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

He shakes his head and turns towards the chessboard; Dream follows him for lack of anything better to do, but he’s careful to keep at least a foot of space between himself and everyone else so that nobody accidentally walks into him again. It’s never a pleasant experience.

“Ranboo!” Tubbo cheers when Ranboo stops at the edge of the board. “Who do you think’s going to win?”

Ranboo stares down at the board for a long moment. “I have no idea.”

“I think Fundy will win!” Wilbur says in that rasping, too-cheerful mask of his. “He’s always been very smart, you know—”

He cuts off abruptly, cloudy white eyes wide and startled as he stares at Dream, smile gone. Fundy, Ranboo, and Tubbo exchange a worried look. Dream is frozen, unable to back away even though every instinct in his body screams at him to either run or fight.

“Wilbur?” Fundy asks, tentative.

Ranboo clears his throat. “What— what are you looking at, there?”

“Oh!” Wilbur shakes himself, smile returning like it was never gone. His eyes stay cold, staring directly at Dream. “Oh, nothing, I thought I saw something.”

Ranboo frowns. “Did you?”

“Nope! Just a trick of the light.”

“Ah.”

Fundy, Ranboo, and Tubbo don’t seem convinced, but they don’t push it. Ranboo stays staring at where Dream is for a moment longer than the others, face scrunched in a perplexed, shrewd frown. Dream waits until he turns away before drifting back, fleeing the plaza as fast as he can. He only makes it to just past the announcement board when a warm hand grabs his shoulder; whoever it is does it gently, like they’re trying not to startle him, but he’s still reaching for his axe or sword before realizing they’re both long gone.

“Ow,” Wilbur grunts when Dream’s elbow slams into his stomach. “What the hell, man?”

“You scared me!” Dream defends, shrugging the hand off his shoulder as he turns. He misses the warmth almost immediately and pushes that thought away. And then he realizes that Wilbur is still staring at him, and— “Wait, you can see me?”

Wilbur shrugs, lips twitching into a smile that’s so far away from his normal carefree grin that Dream is momentarily thrown off. “I mean, you’re dead, aren’t you?”

“Yes. But nobody else seems to know I’m here.”

“That’s because they’re still alive,” Wilbur whispers, leaning close. His voice is still raspy and it echoes, faintly, but all the naive joy is gone. “I’m not.”

“That’s...true,” Dream allows. “But  _ you’re _ still visible to them.”

“Good point. It’s not like I chose that, though; it’s your world, you should know better than I, shouldn’t you?”

Dream winces, crossing his arms and digging his nails into his forearms. The scar tissue there is rough beneath his fingers and, not for the first time in his afterlife, he wishes for his mask and armbands. He’s never felt this exposed, though, because until now the only person who could see his scars was himself, and he’s had years to get used to them. Wilbur isn’t saying anything, but Dream can feel the weight of his gaze and it makes him want to scream until his voice runs dry.

Instead, he says, “You’d think so.”

It comes out more bitter than he means, and Wilbur tilts his head.

“It’s not so bad, you know. It gets better.”

Dream snorts, staring up at the ghost of his past ally; even in death, Wilbur looks exhausted. His yellow sweater is too vibrant against his grey skin and cloudy eyes, and even the smile lines on his face seem artificial. He’s always been a liar, but Dream thought that maybe he’d let that go in the afterlife. Clearly, he hasn’t, and it’s too late for him to back out now.

“Does it?” Dream asks, his smile humorless and acidic.

Wilbur laughs, walking the edge of hysteria even though he’s had over a year for his mind to supposedly heal. “You’d think!”

Dream rolls his eyes, tilting his face back to the sun. It’s spring, warm enough that Fundy and Tubbo have both shed their jackets, but the rays are cold. He’s used to it, at this point, but leans against Wilbur before he can stop himself. The other ghost just chuckles.

“You’ll get used to the cold, too, don’t worry.”

They stay there for a long time, leeching each other’s body warmth. Something about Dream’s presence seems to have turned Wilbur invisible to the rest of the world, but the other ghost doesn’t complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaand there we go. thank you for reading!
> 
> chapter notes:  
> 1) It's my headcanon that Ghostbur is faking at least some of his amnesia. this one's pretty self-explanatory
> 
> 2) I don't know if Ranboo saw Dream/knew that it was him who was there, but he definitely knew Something was up
> 
> 3) Ghosts feel cold all the time because they're just slightly Off from the living plane of existence; they feel warm to each other, though
> 
> 4) In my Dream appearance headcanon/design, he has scars on his face and both his forearms. He wears the mask to cover the ones on his face, and he has armbands that go from his wrists to just below his elbows to hide the ones on his forearms. In death, he's without both of those protections.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! comments and kudos greatly appreciated 💛💛


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